


Great Ambience, Stunning Staff, Will Definitely Return Soon

by cornflakes_canvas



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:09:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakes_canvas/pseuds/cornflakes_canvas
Summary: Kyle has a thing for that pretty waiter he met five minutes ago.





	Great Ambience, Stunning Staff, Will Definitely Return Soon

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm late, but I really wanted to write some sort of Christmas story. Unfortunately, this was all I had time for. Oh, well.  
> Merry Christmas and thanks for reading <3

The Simmons family had always been a humble bunch, ever-reluctant to support any sort of extravagance or wastefulness, which is why now, sat at a large table in a fine and truly quite expensive dining room in central London, they were visibly uncomfortable and feeling painfully self-conscious.

 

Kyle's affluent half-uncle, accompanied by his acidulous wife, had come up from Virginia Water for a short visit, and in a moment of generosity, the mid-sixties had decided to invite Mr and Mrs Simmons as well as their nineteen-year-old son to join them at the brightly polished location for afternoon tea, showing off their wealth through a gesture that they clearly perceived to be an act of _charity_.

 

It was the twenty-fifth of December and to be quite honest, Kyle would rather be anywhere else but here, sitting opposite his large uncle whose white linen clothing seemed far too bright in contrast to the worrisome redness of his skin.

His half-aunt, a perpetually annoyed woman with an uncomfortably nasal voice, was clad in a yellow dress that clashed horribly with the mustard-coloured upholstery and did her pasty skin tone _no_ favours. She occasionally took a sip from her champagne flute, leaving a pink smear on the rim of the glass, and pretended to be _immensely_ interested in Mrs Simmons' anecdotes about her work at a small primary school before not-so-subtly steering the conversation towards her recent confrontation with a _rather impolite_ art dealer.

 

“I did ask him whether or not they were willing to _buy_ paintings, since my dear friend – and Rembrandt connoisseur if I may mention – is an _incredibly_ talented painter. If I am absolutely honest, _anything_ she has painted that I have laid eyes on shows a much more extensive skill set than the range of so-called _art_ they choose to display at that gallery. And what did the young man say to me? _If we didn't buy paintings, we would not have much to sell now, would we?_ Can you imagine the _rudeness_?”

 

Kyle had to stop himself from rolling his eyes and tried to blank out his aunt's annoying voice, instead staring hungrily at the many artfully arranged pastries and perfectly rectangular finger sandwiches on the table between them. He was _starving_ and hated that he was too self-conscious to simply tuck in as long as he had the opportunity – his suspicion that the action would be met with an affronted tut and a shake of the head from the stern woman had nipped Kyle's appetite in the bud.

 

He let his gaze glide around the room, listened to the pianist softly reciting well-known Christmas carols on a shiny piano, marvelled at the impressive rose arrangement in the middle of the room and the lush Christmas tree to his right, decorated with hundreds of ornaments that sparkled proudly in the warm sunlight streaming through the tall windows and illuminating the perfect display of wealth and noblesse. Kyle had never been anywhere that even _remotely_ compared to this place.

 

He hated it.

 

Throwing a longing glance at the golden clock on the wall to his left, Kyle's heart sank when he realised no more than thirty minutes had passed since he had walked through the large front door, feeling ridiculously underdressed in his jeans and jumper, old trainers and knitted scarf, although his uncle had _oh so generously_ announced that he _didn't care what they looked like_.

 

The young man sighed inwardly and prayed for this whole ordeal to please, _please_ be over quickly, when he noticed someone standing next to him out of the corner of his eye. He raised his head, tried to shake himself from his reverie, and found himself wide awake as he looked up into the most incredible face he had ever seen.

 

Kyle could swear his heart stopped momentarily when the young waiter smiled at him, kindness radiating from his big, shockingly blue eyes, and _God_ , those _dimples_.

The boy appeared to be slightly older than him, was almost as tall as Kyle himself and had dark hair that was swept back from his forehead smoothly. His pale skin was littered with soft freckles and his dark eyelashes looked like they were drawn in black ink.

Kyle swallowed and suddenly felt a lot warmer than he knew he should in his thin jumper, and _fuck_ , he couldn't stop staring, _admiring_ the man next to him.

 

The corner of the waiter's mouth twitched in amusement, making Kyle painfully aware of his blatancy. He averted his gaze and the boy raised his voice, silky and warm, alerting the others to his presence.

 

“Hello, my name is Dan,” he said and smiled at each of them briefly.

“I hope everything is to your satisfaction?”

 

Kyle's uncle explained that yes, they were _just fine_ , except could they _possibly_ get a pitcher of water and a number of glasses, and Kyle seized the opportunity to continue looking at Dan, at the way the sunlight caught in his wavy hair and his white shirt perfectly framed his slim silhouette, the way the blue waistcoat made his complexion appear even softer and complemented his eyes so perfectly it was hard to believe the uniform had not been designed for him alone.

 

The tall boy almost missed the soft _“Is there anything else I can do for you?”_ Dan directed at him specifically, only catching on to it when he noticed that everyone was staring at him from around the table, waiting for him to reply.

 

“Oh- um. I- yeah! I mean no, I'm fine. Uh. Thanks.”

 

Kyle felt the immediate flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck, but Dan only smiled at him and nodded kindly, crossing his fingers behind his back and bowing his head ever-so-slightly before moving on to the next table.

 

_Holy fuck._

 

A loud tut from his aunt reminded Kyle that he was not alone and he felt himself go redder still when he looked around and saw that he was still being scrutinised, his uncle and aunt showing unabashed disapproval, whereas his mum and dad grinned with a knowing glint in their eyes.

 

Kyle cleared his throat and unceremoniously snatched one of the scones from a floral tray in the middle of the polished table – right now, eating with his fingers seemed like the less embarrassing of two faux pas.

While he listened to his aunt picking up where she appeared to have left off before the interruption with the individually emphasised words _“As I was saying …”_ , he stuffed his face with the pastry, completely ignoring its taste as he was busy scanning the large room for the pretty waiter.

 

He spotted Dan standing at a bar at the back of the room, placing tall glasses on a silver tray and expertly balancing the fragile weight as he picked it up swiftly and turned around, gracefully soaring across the room.

He returned to their table a few moments later with a beautifully crafted set of crystal glasses and a large pitcher, setting the tableware down gently and serving the guests with a charming smile. He took his time shifting Kyle's white napkin before placing the last remaining glass in front of the younger man. His fingers rested on the crystal base for a moment as he looked into Kyle's eyes and the younger man swallowed audibly when Dan retracted his hand, slowly tracing his fingertips over the smooth wood and softly brushing them against Kyle's hand where it lay next to his plate.

 

Kyle heard himself stammer a broken _Thank you_ , and his heart skipped a beat when Dan grinned and breathed, voice soft and quiet: “You're welcome.”

 

The young man's eyes followed the waiter around the room for a while, watching as he spoke with several guests, handed out glasses of champagne and took orders for tea. Their eyes met more than once and Kyle felt bursts of electricity shoot through his body every time Dan smiled brightly before hurrying off again.

 

The older man didn't show his face again for a number of minutes that seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, and just when Kyle was starting to feel restless, the waiter finally resurfaced. He appeared to have changed out of his uniform and was now wrapped in a black coat, looking relaxed and content.

He immediately sought out Kyle's gaze and when their eyes met once again, Dan nodded his head slightly towards the front door and raised his eyebrows, and no matter how entranced Kyle was, he was positive he had _not_ imagined the small gesture.

 

Dan grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before he disappeared out of sight again, and Kyle spent a few minutes fidgeting in his seat and trying to think of a good enough excuse to justify him leaving _right this minute_ , before he thought _fuck it_ and swiftly rose from the leather sofa, patting his pockets and looking around.

 

“Uh, sorry, but I … really need to go,” he stammered, “Thanks so much for the uh- the invitation. It's been … great.”

He took a deep breath.

“See you at home?” he said to his mum, who nodded her head with a barely contained smile.

 

Kyle waved one last time, ignoring the affronted huffs and gasps coming from his older relatives, and hurried towards the large entrance hall, waiting impatiently for his coat and scarf to be handed to him as he stood on his toes, trying to peek outside the building. He couldn't see anyone waiting for him and briefly worried he might have misunderstood Dan's intentions and he all but ran towards the door and pushed it wide open, throwing on his coat and loosely placing the scarf around his neck as he went.

 

He looked around breathlessly and saw Dan casually leaning against the wall to his left, eyes closed peacefully, his face tilted towards the rays of sunshine that seemed to envelop him fully, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. He was wearing jeans, muddy Converse and a black sweatshirt bearing some odd cartoon design. His hair was much messier, standing up in several directions, and he looked so unlike the meticulously dressed and flawlessly composed waiter Kyle had encountered inside, he could well have been a different person altogether.

 

He was perfect.

 

Kyle breathed deeply and approached the older boy slowly, trying to think of anything to say that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot.

 

“Hi,” Dan beat him to it, eyes still closed, making Kyle jump slightly as he stared at the now much more visible freckles peppering the boy's skin.

 

“H- hi,” Kyle stammered, twisting the small tassels on his scarf around his fingers.

 

Dan blinked his eyes open and squinted at him, smiling as he pushed himself off the wall and tilted his head slightly.

“Looked like you were having a great time in there,” he joked and Kyle snorted.

“Wanna take a walk?”

 

Kyle glanced down the road and grinned to himself giddily.

“Sure.”

 

He noticed something small, white getting caught in Dan's hair and when he looked up, he saw the feathery snow that was starting to soar down around them. The two young men glanced up at the vast sky, admiring the delicate crystals glinting in the sunlight. The snowflakes were few and fragile and wouldn't settle, but Kyle couldn't bring himself to care when Dan laughed quietly and stretched a hand out in front of him, watching as the white powder dissolved quickly when it touched his warm skin.

 

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Dan huffed and started walking away from Kyle, hands tucked into his coat and glancing over his shoulder. He smirked and stuck his tongue out at the younger man.

 

“Yeah,” Kyle said and grinned, following Dan down the road.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

 


End file.
